Remember When
by FerryBerry
Summary: Future. An accidental meeting after years without contact leads to more than Rachel or Quinn could have imagined.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Quinn Fabray was staring at Rachel. Not blatantly - that would be far too obvious and unreserved for Quinn Fabray - but subtly, from beneath her long lashes. In a devilish kind of way that stirred parts of Rachel that hadn't been stirred for...well, years. But Rachel refused to budge. Well, she might've squirmed a few times, and if she didn't keep sipping at the foamy beer Santana had purchased her when they first walked into this bar, it was going to go flat, and she much preferred the foam to no foam, so she sipped every now and then, when Quinn looked away long enough to aim her cue stick or grab her own bottled beer and Rachel could remember what air was.

But other than that, Rachel refused. After all, she had been the one to send the last email to Quinn six years ago, when everyone had last heard from her, and so she refused to be the one to initiate a conversation now. No matter how long Quinn stared at her. Rachel would just sit on this stool until Quinn's pride cracked or she left the bar, and that was that.

That didn't mean, however, that Rachel couldn't enjoy the view, too. When she felt Quinn's eyes drift away, she could enjoy the return of short, mussed hair like the beginning of their senior year, except not bright pink, and a silver nose ring that glinted off the neon lights of the bar every now and then. Not to mention skinny jeans that hugged Quinn's ass so right Rachel had to wonder why she was even wearing a belt. Other than that it was downright sexy the way she hooked her thumbs in it when she was waiting for her turn to cue up.

Oh, and Quinn Fabray was playing pool. Quite expertly, in fact, and every time she stretched to aim, the muscles in her arms rippled, shown off by the black vest she was wearing, and Rachel could just see down her cleavage, for just a flash of an instant, before Quinn straightened up again. Ultimately, Rachel could conclude one thing - maybe two - that Quinn Fabray didn't age, and that Quinn Fabray was as sexy as ever, only now she didn't try to hide it with wholesome dresses or try to distract from it with dingy punk clothes. She wore it for everyone to see.

And still, Rachel had one last thing she couldn't come to a conclusion about. What was Quinn Fabray doing in a butch lesbian bar after six years off the radar?

It wasn't unusual for Quinn to pull a disappearing act. Hell, it had become pretty standard for her to pop out of existence in the years they had all known her, and to pop back up whenever she felt like it, or when she had no choice, like in high school. But this had been the longest she'd ever disappeared, and Rachel supposed that she, and everyone else, really, had just assumed that this time she was done with them all, that they wouldn't be seeing her again, and if they did, it would be an accident.

This was certainly an accident, of course. Santana had demanded - suggested - that Rachel come out with her to a butch place, complaining that they'd spent way too much time in the last months catering to Kurt and Blaine's desire to be among their own and sitting uncomfortably in the dark corners of frou-frou gay bars. And as much as Rachel hated to admit it, she agreed that a change of scenery would be nice, so they - Santana, Rachel, and Brittany - came here, a lesbian bar on the way up to upstate New York countryside.

Typically, it didn't take long for Brittany and Santana to rent a room for the night and abandon her, and shortly before Rachel decided to take her leave, Quinn Fabray came in with a bunch of friends to drink and play pool and, apparently, to stare at Rachel.

It was something of a shock - but mainly for the length of time, not necessarily the location. Rachel knew that Quinn had had one lesbian experience, at least. Santana had copped to her night with Quinn a few years ago, on another drunken excursion, and though Rachel hadn't been able to get a lot of detail out of her, she did discover that Quinn had had her unfortunate lower back tattoo of Ryan Seacrest removed but promptly replaced with some kind of flower. So there was that.

Apparently Quinn had, in the meantime, decided that women were the spice of life for her, and just in time to stop speaking to everyone she knew. And now she was leering at Rachel in a lesbian bar, evidently having also decided that since she was into women, Rachel was a viable conquest and not just an annoying midget or a cute little friend.

Or perhaps Rachel was reading too much into Quinn's stare. Maybe she was just staring because it had been a long time, and she was waiting for Rachel to crack and come over and greet her with hugs and where have you beens and are you okays and I've missed yous. Well, Quinn could just wait until the bar fell down around them. Rachel refused.

"Hey there."

Rachel almost jumped off of her stool and spat out her beer, but as soon as she had wiped the foam from her upper lip and managed to swallow her stomach again, she straightened her spine and offered the suddenly very close and very sexy and very smirky Quinn Fabray a toss of her hair and an aloft chin.

She cleared her throat. "Hello."

"Having a good time?"

Quinn's voice hadn't changed a bit. That husky, sweet timbre still sent shivers down Rachel's spine. And those damn hazel eyes, twinkling so brightly, they were still so hypnotic. Rachel looked at her near empty beer instead, while the bartender passed two new bottles of beer across to Quinn.

"Just fine, thank you. And you?"

"Fine," Quinn echoed, leaning herself closer to Rachel so she could smell fresh citrus and beer. "Not to quote clichés or anything, but you _are_ a pretty lady sitting alone in a bar. You like to join us?" She jerked her head toward the pool tables.

Rachel blinked a few times, not only to regain her focus, but to figure out exactly what was going on here. Quinn was inviting her to come play pool with her and her lesbian friends? No how have you been, no what have you been up to, no I've missed you? Just...come play pool with me and my new friends?

"Unless you're not into a big crowd," Quinn said then, scanning her face. "In which case, mind if I join you?"

Rachel bit into her bottom lip. Those eyes seemed to brighten even more at the prospect of sitting alone with Rachel, and it eased her doubts. Maybe Quinn was just trying not to make a big production of seeing each other again. That would be more her style, slipping back in, in the dark behind the spotlight and before you knew it, there she was, back in the limelight, back in your life. Still…

"Won't your friends miss you?"

Quinn glanced back and shrugged her shoulders. "They won't mind."

Rachel found herself nodding, shifting on her stool. "Okay."

Quinn smiled, as sweet as ever, and propped herself up onto the stool next to Rachel, pushing one of the beer bottles she had bought to the side and taking a sip off the other. And _now_ she was blatantly staring at Rachel, so much so that she felt her cheeks go ruddy and she resisted the urge to squirm again.

"So what are you doing out here all alone? If you don't mind my asking."

"Actually I came with Santana and Brittany, but they, ah, decided to partake in an activity where three's a crowd instead."

Rachel expected a question, maybe a they're back together, or a how are they. Quinn just smiled, seeming amused.

"They just ditched you out here?"

Rachel's brow furrowed. "They do that a lot, you know."

"They could at least wait for you to find a hookup, too."

"Is that how you and your friends do it?"

"Always. Third wheeling is fun for no one."

"I'm used to it by now."

"I find that hard to believe."

Quinn's eyes were wandering, and Rachel flushed all over again, forgetting to be aloof and smiling shyly at her beer. Quinn echoed it with a grin.

"So I haven't seen you around here before. New to the area, the gay scene, or just this bar?"

Rachel tilted her head. "Just this bar, actually. But I take it _you_ spend a lot of time here now."

Quinn shrugged her shoulders. "Not a lot. My friends - " she nodded her head back toward the dwindling group at the pool tables " - and I stop by after work sometimes, blow off some steam."

She narrowed her eyes with interest. "And what are you doing with your career?"

"Accounting."

Rachel stared. "Accounting?"

Quinn chuckled. "I know it's boring, but ouch."

"No! No, I'm sure it's...very stimulating work. I've always been horrible with numbers, you know." She smiled self-deprecatingly and shrugged. "Of course, I've never been very good at anything except for singing. Not that I'm necessarily _bad_ at most other things - well. Except math and fashion. I still have to ask Kurt about my outfits most of the time, because you know you can only trust Santana's opinion if you're going for slutty, plus he is still working at Vogue so he has his thumb on the pulse of the fashion world, and he ought to be used to giving out advice by now, not that that stops him from huffing whenever I show up at his place to ask if I look all right before an event or - or...what?"

Quinn had taken to leaning up on her fist, elbow on the bar, her gaze steady and unwavering and so _twinkly_. It sent heat straight to Rachel's cheeks and abdomen, and she crossed her legs on the stool, trying not to look directly at the smirk on those pink lips.

She popped her eyebrows up. "Just listening."

Rachel opened her mouth once, twice, and then chose to finish off her beer, peeking at Quinn in her peripheral vision. There was a time when Quinn would've been rolling her eyes had Rachel gone on that long, and though she knew that time had passed even before Quinn disappeared on everyone this last time, it was startling to be reminded that Quinn didn't find her annoying anymore. Or at least, she didn't outwardly express that annoyance. Somehow Rachel had gotten the feeling that it was the former, though, that through their senior year of high school, Quinn had found the patience to tolerate Rachel. Maybe even like her.

And then they barely spoke, and then Quinn disappeared.

"You like this song?"

Rachel popped her head up and realized, with another blush, that she had unconsciously taken to tapping her foot on the stool's rung and humming along under her breath. She cleared her throat, stopping herself.

"Yes, I do, as a matter of fact."

Quinn smiled and slid off her stool. "Do you want to dance?"

Dance with Quinn Fabray? Something told Rachel this was a bad idea. Mainly, the arousal she already felt buzzing through her body, just from sitting next to Quinn and feeling her eyes on her. But what harm could a dance do, really? It was a great song, after all, and it wasn't like she hadn't danced near Quinn before, in high school. Although dancing near someone and dancing with someone could be two very different things, but honestly - she was over thinking it. It was just a dance. She was practically dancing already.

Rachel took Quinn's offered hand and followed her onto the dance floor, swaying to the beat before they even found an empty spot to take over. Before she knew it, Quinn's hands were at the base of her back and if she had thought they were close at the bar, they were even closer now. Close enough that Rachel could not only smell the citrus, but she could practically taste it, and she could feel Quinn's heat not only through her hands touching so low, but from their mere proximity, and she could definitely see down Quinn's vest, see that she wasn't wearing a bra at all, and she could see and even trace the veins under her pale, pale skin.

It was something more than arousal that had Rachel lifting her hand to Quinn's neck, watching her own tan thumb stroke over the silky soft skin. Her other hand drifted up as well, to grip onto Quinn's shoulder while the blonde guided her into a dance that brought their legs into a near tangle. Rachel couldn't deny the impulse to move closer, to set herself almost against Quinn's thigh - she wouldn't quite allow herself that. It was bad enough that she was dancing so intimately with Quinn, so close to her she could see the damp edges of dirty blonde hair.

It was unfair, really, how gracefully Quinn sweated. It didn't take pregnancy to make her glow, she simply did that naturally. Just like everything else beautiful about her, and really, was there anything not beautiful about Quinn Fabray? She was like a model who never left the shoot, like Mary Poppins - practically perfect in every way, including how well she danced.

Not that Rachel hadn't acknowledged Quinn for her dancing talents before, but it was different watching someone dance and memorize choreography and dancing _with_ them while they made it up on the spot. And Quinn made it up well, every bit of it designed to bring them closer together and to suck Rachel in, and it every bit of it worked. Once again, before she knew it, Rachel's hips were tilting back and forth against Quinn's, a firm thigh between her legs, and she was gripping tightly to the collar of Quinn's vest while the blonde's fingers grazed her skin under the hem of her top.

And Rachel knew she shouldn't be doing it, any of it. Knew how badly she was behaving, but she couldn't bring herself to stop. After years of missing Quinn, after years of realizing how badly she'd missed out, Rachel couldn't resist indulging herself. She couldn't resist a Quinn who wanted her, even if it was only for a simple dance and then she'd be cast aside into friendship again. She deserved to feel what it was like just once, didn't she?

Quinn's eyes had been on her the entire time, but Rachel hadn't been able to bring herself to meet them, knowing she'd ultimately give in and do what she absolutely could not do. But just then Quinn lowered her head, and Rachel glanced up in panic, but Quinn's mouth went to her ear, instead, pink lips brushing lightly as she murmured, "If I'm being too forward, tell me."

Rachel's brow furrowed at that, and she opened her mouth to say no, she didn't mind, this was fine, but then Quinn was squeezing her ass and everything was perfectly wonderful in the world. She couldn't help anything she did in the next few seconds, not grinding onto Quinn's jean-clad thigh, not pressing her face up against her throat, letting her lips graze the way Quinn's grazed the shell of her ear, sending a shudder down her spine, and not wrapping her arms up and around Quinn's neck and pulling herself fully against her athletic body.

Quinn, of course, took all this for the encouragement it was and kneaded her ass with one hand, while the other wrapped around her waist, holding Rachel firmly against her. Their hips were pressed so close Rachel was sure Quinn could feel the heat from her abdomen even through layers of clothes, and she was _positive_ she could feel it from between her legs, coming to a boiling point from the closeness and the rubbing thigh and the lips and the husky voice and just everything Quinn. Rachel could only hope she wasn't wet enough for Quinn to notice yet; she thought she might die if she left a mark on her jeans. It was bad enough she was panting against Quinn's perfect neck.

But thankfully, even that didn't last much longer, because Quinn dropped her forehead against Rachel's and instead she was panting against her pink lips, and then kissing them like she knew she shouldn't. Kissing them like she'd wanted to for what ultimately amounted to ten years, when she accounted for the time she'd spent ignoring any niggling feelings that arose for this stoic, gorgeous blonde whose lips were like a bed of velvet. She squeezed her arms tighter, tighter around Quinn's neck, rising up, despite wanting to take Quinn's thigh with her, so she could better meet her ravishing mouth.

Never in her life had Rachel kissed like this before - or been kissed like this. It was all lips and tongue and a little teeth, and they couldn't seem to stop, even when their lips were tingling with swelling and their breaths came in heaving gasps between barely parted kisses that curled Rachel's toes. Quinn was a drug, she was magic, and she kissed Rachel like she wanted to make her come on the spot. At this point, Rachel didn't doubt she could; she didn't want Quinn's lips away from hers for a second, so she fisted her fingers into short blonde hair and pulled her closer. It was only with a gentle bite on Rachel's bottom lip that Quinn broke free, enough to breathe, enough to husk to her.

"Come home with me."

Rachel couldn't have shaken her head no at that moment if she'd wanted to.

#

They stumbled out of the bar together, kissing each other over and over, making up for years of lost time and opportunities, lost so deep they would've missed their cab if the driver hadn't honked, and as soon as Quinn blurted out an address, threw a fistful of money at him, and closed the window between front and back seats, they were back at it.

Rachel tried to crawl into Quinn's lap, but a hand on her inner thigh prevented the motion, so she settled for wrapping her arms about Quinn's neck again and hauling her closer while the blonde burrowed into the crook of her neck. Bites and kisses spread all over the skin and Rachel squirmed, held her legs together around the hand that approached the apex of her thighs. She felt wet - not only below, but from sweat from the heat of kisses and dancing close.

Quinn didn't seem to notice, for she just kept on without pause. Her tongue soothed the sting of every nibble, and her hand, her wonderful hand, curved up to cup Rachel between her legs and she let out a noise between a squeak and a moan, rolling her hips further toward Quinn and clamping her hand there between her thighs while she rubbed her already sopping panties and pushed them at her entrance. Rachel just about died at the tease, whimpering as she clung to Quinn's vest and her hair, and rocked on the seat as Quinn pressed the fabric at her slit.

Rachel was quite certain if the cab hadn't stopped just as Quinn's fingers brushed the hot, swollen skin on either side, she would've orgasmed on the spot. Instead, she was offered a brief, frustrating respite as the two of them climbed out of the back and Quinn led her into a nearby apartment building, up to the fourth floor. She dug keys from her jeans pocket and unlocked the door while Rachel tried to calm down, taking deep breaths and petting down her hair to look somewhat more presentable, and above all trying not to think about how she was about to have sex with Quinn Fabray and how she shouldn't be doing this.

Quinn swung the door to her apartment open, gesturing Rachel inside, and she let out a breath of relief as before she could even glance around or take any more time to think, Quinn swept her up and pushed her back against the door in lieu of shutting it, and once again her mouth was thoroughly occupied with the wonderful invasion of Quinn's tongue. And the idea that they were finally in private, and she could get cooler again if she could only get more clothes off. Rachel started with Quinn's vest, popping the buttons loose, and she had just gotten to the last one when Quinn pulled back, panting.

"What's wrong?" Rachel breathed, panicking as she tightened her grip on the vest, almost gone, so close to being rid of it.

Quinn smiled a little, kissing her and then her forehead firmly, before she said, "I just wanted to ask before...what's your name?" Her hazel eyes scanned Rachel's face rapidly, fascinated and predatory and euphoric all at once.

Rachel, on the other hand, felt anything but euphoric as her stomach and heart simultaneously crashed to the ground, her brow furrowing. She had thought that Quinn's lack of acknowledgment of their shared past or the fact that she'd been gone for six years and was now back out of nowhere, or of Santana or Brittany or even Kurt was odd. But she'd never considered it was some kind of...some kind of…

"Is this some kind of game?" Rachel let go of Quinn's vest, folding her arms across her heaving chest instead, because as much as she didn't want to stop, she wasn't about to let Quinn play her.

Except when Quinn looked at her, she looked genuinely puzzled. Earnest. She stroked Rachel's hair back. "No...I...I'd just like to know. Is that okay?"

Rachel scanned her face, her eyes. Quinn _didn't know_. She murmured, testing, "Rachel...it's Rachel."

Quinn smiled, pleased, and tried it out. "Rachel. I like it. Rachel." She cupped her face, caressing with her thumbs. "I'm Taylor."

And then she was kissing her again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Rachel felt as if she'd been doused with a slushie. And at the same time, Quinn - Taylor - whoever the fuck - infused her with even more pleasure, with more heat gushing between her legs at the touch of her perfect lips and her hands caressing down her neck and it had to be Quinn. It had to be. This was Quinn. Rachel knew Quinn. She knew her face, she knew her eyes, she knew her eyebrows, and her mannerisms and the way she walked and the way she talked and the way she moved. This could be no one else but Quinn. Right?

Her head was fuzzy, hazy with arousal and it was making it difficult to think beyond anything but how wonderful Quinn's lips were against her neck, how incredibly wonderful it felt to be touched by Quinn's hands and held by Quinn's strong arms. And yet there was the slushie in her face, struggling to bring her to lucidity - was it Quinn's lips and hands and arms? Was this some amazing doppleganger Rachel had fallen for after sipping at her beer for too long? But it couldn't be. Rachel _knew_ Quinn and this _was_ Quinn. Except it was Taylor.

Or maybe some identical twin Quinn had never told any of them about. It wouldn't be surprising, given how close Quinn played things to the chest, but _no_. This was Quinn, this was her; she simply didn't remember. Somehow. Rachel didn't have an explanation, and when Quinn was sucking bruises into her neck just so and brushing the pads of her fingers over the burning skin of Rachel's sides, she wasn't going to come up with one anytime soon.

There was one thing Rachel could do, though. One thing to find out for sure, to solidify what she already knew, that this was Quinn Fabray, memory gone, but Lucy Quinn Fabray, because Santana had told her about the flower tattoo at the base of Quinn's back. All Rachel had to do was get a peek.

Rachel lifted her fingers from where they'd settled on Quinn's pointed hips, drawing them up again, over the smoothest skin in the world to push back that vest she'd lost focus on earlier. Quinn's hands, regrettably, retracted from beneath Rachel's shirt, but only long enough to shrug off the vest, and then before Rachel could get a look at anything, let alone her back, Quinn was tugging up her top as well and Rachel was so relieved by the cool air on her skin she did nothing but drop her arms around a long neck and lean for another hot kiss.

Quinn indulged her, but only for a moment before she was dropping down on her knees and bringing her palms up Rachel's thighs to dig underneath her skirt. And her mouth was laying open, wet kisses on Rachel's waist, just above the hem of her skirt, and her nose kept nudging into her navel in the most perfect, tickling way, and her fingers streaked hot tingles across Rachel's thighs, even over her stockings, and Rachel wanted nothing more than for Quinn to fuck her right then and there, memory or no memory.

But she remembered herself - enough to peek over Quinn's shoulder, clutching into her silky hair to steer her closer, and there it was. It was difficult to make out from Rachel's angle, but it was a tattoo, at the base of her back, and it most definitely looked like a flower. It _was_ Quinn. Quinn Fabray, Lucy Quinn Fabray. Calling herself Taylor. Not remembering Kurt or Brittany or Santana or Rachel, or their past, hitting on Rachel in a bar, kissing her so thoroughly and vigorously, touching her so fervently, so ravishingly, drenching Rachel's panties and inner thighs with every little movement.

Rachel almost choked on her own breath. Quinn. Quinn who'd been gone for six years without explanation, because she was Taylor and she didn't remember and Rachel should say something. She should stop this. She should tell Taylor - she was Quinn and they knew each other and she had to come back to them, to Rachel.

But Quinn was kissing up her stomach toward her bra and her strong arms wrapped around Rachel's hips, and she lifted her up just as her mouth burrowed into the valley between Rachel's breasts. She couldn't help the moan that escaped her as her fingers burrowed deep into Quinn's golden hair, gripping with her nails as a fiery tongue swept up her sternum and she was wheeled around somewhere, deeper into the apartment somewhere. Quinn unzipped her skirt as she carried her about and Rachel could only wonder how she was managing to do and think of so many things at once - not even looking where she was going - while Rachel was hardly able to focus on one thing at a time at the moment.

The thought was interrupted, of course, by Quinn depositing Rachel against the kitchen counter. Her skirt dropped to the floor with her, but Quinn hardly seemed to notice anything but Rachel. More specifically, Rachel's eyes. Despite everything they'd been doing, despite standing there mostly naked in front of Quinn, and having Quinn half-naked and gorgeous as a Greek goddess in front of her, that powerful, hypnotizing gaze still sent a blush to Rachel's cheeks and left her entirely without oxygen.

Their mouths met in one more firm, ferocious kiss before Quinn was gripping her shoulders, turning her about to face the counter, which opened like a bar on one side, and before Rachel could gather any more information about where Taylor was occupying Quinn, the lips were back on her neck and shoulders. The hands were stroking down her arms and then flicking the clasp of her bra undone, pushing it away as if it were a fly, a mere nuisance, and then she was palming her breasts, kneading and flicking the tight tits. And Quinn's body was pressing into Rachel's back so snugly she could feel the point of her nipples.

Rachel had to bite down on her tongue to keep from saying Quinn's name, her real name, but she couldn't keep from making every other noise in the book, from rolling her body and her hips back into Quinn desperately and gripping her head close by her hair. Quinn had other ideas, however, and sank down again, drawing just the tip of her tongue down Rachel's spine as she went and it sent such an electric shock from Rachel's head to her toes that she thought she might've had a mini-orgasm at that moment. She was sure she had when Quinn drew down her panties, leaving her stockings on, and without a moment of hesitation, buried her mouth against Rachel's wet pussy.

Rachel covered her own mouth for just a moment to muffle her cry of relief, spreading her legs reflexively wider as that talented tongue that had been doing so many things in her mouth and to her body now played with her swollen folds and sucked up her juices like they were sprung from the fountain of youth. A finger swept through just after a tongue and then went to work flicking the bud of her clit back and forth and Rachel could not stop making noise, and nor could she find anything to anchor her onto this planet with, so she dug her nails into the far side of the counter, bending over it and crying out over and over, trying _not_ to say the one name she wanted to say the most at that very moment.

And it was so wonderful. Quinn - Taylor, she supposed, in this instance, was so very good with her tongue, slipping and sliding over her folds and dipping in her entrance like she'd been doing it all her life. It was the kind of sex people only had in porn, or so Rachel thought before now. It wasn't supposed to be this hot, this sweat-inducing, this loud, and this amazing in real life. It wasn't supposed to make her half-hump the counter because she couldn't hold still with Quinn's tongue in her, Quinn's mouth sucking her, Quinn's finger teasing her.

But it was, and it didn't take long for Rachel to fall apart, to scream out and grip the counter so tightly her arms were white with pressure. Her whole body was still trembling when she came back to reality, or at least some version of it, because Quinn was holding her up, keeping her from falling over, and kissing her neck and hair. Rachel leaned into her heavily, letting herself be guided unsteadily out of the cubby of the kitchen and into a small, dark living room, onto the couch.

Rachel plopped into its comforting springs, running her fingers through her hair to draw it back and sweep some of the sweat away, while Quinn shucked off her jeans, boots, and socks next to her and then promptly crawled over top of her. Spreading more arousing, open-mouthed kisses along the way, on her thigh, over her hip bone, up her navel, a suckle on her nipples, and then into her neck, and despite the utter exhaustion from her trip to bliss, Rachel felt a tingling and a stirring below.

She didn't resist when Quinn smoothed a hand along her inner thigh, prying her open again, only flopping her legs aside and trying to catch her breath or her thoughts or any kind of function, particularly when Quinn murmured to her, "Are you okay?"

After a moment or two, she managed to swallow and nod, to answer hoarsely, "Uh huh."

Gentle fingers tucked her hair behind her ear, and Rachel blearily returned a little kiss before that husky voice prompted on, "Do you need anything?"

Rachel bit on her bottom lip. Did she need anything? Yes. She needed to stop. She needed to take back the last few hours and go back to that bar and get over her damn pride and greet Quinn so she _knew_ they knew each other. She needed to tell Quinn now, the truth, all of it. But more than any of that she needed more of this. She needed more Quinn caring about her, wanting her, being with her, even if it was only in the capacity of a one night stand.

"Don't stop," she heard herself murmur.

Quinn kissed her neck again, tasting Rachel's sweat and skin with flicks of her tongue, and her hand - the one she wasn't leaning against - rubbed over Rachel's stomach. She teased the undersides of her breasts with her fingertips, and then she was venturing down, down again, to cup Rachel's hot mound. Her hips gave an involuntary buck and she lifted her arms to wrap around slim shoulders, digging her nails into Quinn's pale skin as two fingers merely brushed along the lip of each fold - so lightly Rachel wouldn't have even felt it if she hadn't been so swollen and sensitive at the moment.

Rachel's mouth dropped open as Quinn dipped her fingers just a tad at her entrance, gathering the pool of wetness and spreading it around her sex, every touch, every movement sending a spark of electricity through her body and sending a whine to her throat. And of course, Quinn's thumb pressing into her clit only added to it all, putting her hair on end and turning whines into moans. The slowness, in contrast to the feverish fucking in the kitchen, was almost soothing - if it wasn't so torturous, but as Rachel's breaths grew more even and her moans more enthusiastic, Quinn dropped the teasing.

Two fingers pushed into Rachel at once, and without warning and preparation, Rachel hissed and dug her nails in so sharply Quinn echoed her, but she didn't stop. Her arm worked fast, curving into Rachel rapidly and pushing past the clenching of Rachel's walls as she tried to adjust to the invasion, and the friction of that forceful thrusting was perfection. Rachel could hardly keep her legs from clamping shut, but when they did, it was around Quinn's hips, and she used the slim waist to help the rapid bucking of her hips, to match pace with her while Quinn burrowed into her neck and her pussy at once, and Rachel was mad with lust all over again.

Quinn's fingers were perfect. Perfect. Long and flexible, deep inside her, thrusting constantly and curling, stretching her walls with scissoring motions, sweeping along her insides, and pushing, always pushing to get deeper. Each reach was like a tickle inside of Rachel, except it sent her gushing more juices between their intimate connection and crying out against Quinn's slick shoulder, holding her ever closer, needing the reassuring pressure of her body to keep her anchored. Quinn's sweat smelled sweet, like something freshly baked, and it and everything else Quinn was pushing Rachel closer and closer to the edge, and a swipe of Quinn's thumb on her clit did the trick.

By the time Rachel came back around this time, Quinn's golden blonde hair was tickling her face and her soft lips were, too. Her hazel eyes twinkled when Rachel blinked up at her, the way they used to, when they were friends. Rachel swallowed thickly.

"Are you okay?" Quinn murmured again, brushing her knuckles over Rachel's cheekbone, tenderly, so that her eyelashes fluttered with the sensation.

Rachel managed to nod again. "Mm."

"Tired?"

Rachel recognized the sympathetic twist to Quinn's mouth, and her stomach twisted in kind all of a sudden. She could only nod again, and then Quinn flashed her pearly whites at her and stood. Rachel shivered upon feeling a blast of cool air, but Quinn didn't go far - she grabbed Rachel's hands and tugged her up, steadying her with firm arms around her waist.

Rachel cleared her throat, rocking into Quinn's frame. "Wh-where are we going?"

"I think you'll be more comfortable in bed," she explained shortly.

Rachel allowed herself to be guided through the dark apartment once again, down a short hallway into a bedroom. She blinked her eyes shut tightly when Quinn flicked on the lamplight, and when she opened them, it was to find a rather bare looking bedroom. Not at all like the lap of luxury Quinn had lived in in high school - not that Rachel had ever seen her bedroom then, but she imagined she had an actual bed then. Not just a mattress on the floor. Granted, there were blankets and pillows galore on it, but it wasn't the same without a frame.

Before Rachel could take anything more in, Quinn was ushering her forward again and helping her to lie down among the sheets and blankets, covering her up to her shoulders to guard against the cold. And then she smiled at Rachel, turned off the lamp, and went around to the other side, slipping into bed with her, hanging one of those long pale legs over her hip and hugging her close.

It was heavenly hell. Rachel's stomach rebelled more than once on her way to sleep, though it came quickly after two massive orgasms, and one thought spun round and round in her head: _What have I done?_

#

It was still dark when Rachel woke. Probably not long after she fell asleep, she guessed, with how her stomach ached and pained and refused to let her rest. Quinn lay dozing next to her, hugging the other edge of the mattress now. Her pale skin was almost luminescent in the dark of the room, glowing from some faint moonlight coming in around the thick drapes at what appeared to be a ceiling-to-floor window, or perhaps glass sliding doors to a balcony. Rachel could only make guesses.

She sat up gradually, peering over Quinn's long lithe frame to see that her hazel eyes were indeed shut. That perfect nose flared as Quinn sighed and settled again, and Rachel was left wondering not for the first time how one person could be so beautiful. But the thought was fleeting, because she had the opportunity now, while Quinn was sleeping and unawares, to figure this out. To find out _why_ she didn't remember. If there were any clues at all, maybe there were some in the nightstand next to the mattress.

The apartment was terribly bare, Rachel noted, now that she had a chance to stop and breathe and look around - or at least the bedroom was. There was only the mattress and its accoutrements, the nightstand and its lamp, and a dresser with a silver laptop sitting atop it, charging with a blinking white light. And three doors, of course, which Rachel could only assume led back out, to a bathroom, and to a closet.

She shook her head of it - she didn't have time to take her own guided tour. She glanced back at Quinn one more time before carefully easing out the top drawer of the dresser, squinting in the dim light to see into it. Pens and pencils were gathered first and foremost, against the uppermost part of the drawer, and then behind them was a stack of papers and books, a worn copy of Peter Pan sitting on top with a bookmark's fringe sticking out halfway. Rachel pilfered through the stack carefully, finding mostly sketches and scribbles, the occasional slip where someone's number and address was written - and then there was a faux leather bound book with no title. A diary?

With another glance back at Quinn, Rachel slipped it out from beneath the rest of the papers and books and carefully pried it open, only to gasp when she almost dropped out _its_ bookmark, which wasn't a bookmark at all. She twirled the plastic band up into the light. It was a hospital wristband, reading, 'Patient: Jane Doe.'

Rachel lost her breath.

'DOB: Unknown. F. ADMIT: 09/21/2015.'

Six years ago.

The rest was all hospital mumbo jumbo, save for the name of a Dr. Clarissa Taylor. Rachel's eyebrow quirked at that before she slipped the wristband back in and flipped open to the first page, where a shaky hand had written a new date: November 15, 2015.

'Janet, my physical therapist, gave me this book to work on my motor functions. Writing is supposed to help me get back to "normal." I don't have much to say, though. I'm at the Bellevue Hospital Center. They don't know who I am. I don't know who I am. No ID. Police think I was mugged. Seems right.'

The writing had gotten more and more wobbly, more like chicken scratch, as it had gone on, and stopped abruptly there to pick up the next day on the bottom half of the page.

'I was comatose for a month after the mugger hit me in the head. They think with a baseball bat or something. They showed me mugshots, but I didn't recognize anyone. No one recognizes me, either, but Dr. Taylor said I must've been in the hospital before because the x-rays indicated prior damage. I do have some scars on my left side. Faint ones.'

Rachel grimaced, closing her eyes briefly before she glanced over her shoulder to Quinn's resting body. If she tilted her head just right, the moonlight showed a silver scar across her rounded hip. Rachel's fault.

The next entry was on the next page.

'I don't match any local missing persons descriptions. They're widening their search, in case I was an out-of-towner. I was found on West 14th Street, late at night. I think one of the cops thinks I was a hooker.'

West 14th. Rachel had lived there six years ago. Was Quinn...coming to see her that night? And she was mugged, bashed in the head, and… Rachel never knew. No one ever knew, they'd just assumed Quinn had disappeared from their lives like she did sometimes and no one thought to look or go find her or to put out a missing persons report or even contact the police. None of them cared enough to bother, none of them cared that she'd been gone for six years and they'd never heard a peep, and Rachel wanted to throw up very badly at the moment.

But she forced herself to keep reading.

'Nurse Leigh told me not to pay attention, that my family will probably come find me soon and I was probably something respectable like a model or a lawyer or something. She's nice. So is Dr. Taylor.'

The next few entries were mostly centered on Dr. Taylor and Nurse Leigh, the things they said, what they looked like. Little details Quinn had picked up on in her time with them. A few notes about Janet and her physical therapy snuck in a few times, about how Quinn's hands and feet hadn't exactly been working correctly at first when she woke up, and Rachel had to cover her mouth reading about that.

Fortunately, the handwriting was growing neater and more precise, the way Quinn always wrote before, and the entries were getting longer. Quinn talked about walking around the hospital and the courtyard with Nurse Leigh. The things she saw and heard, like patients in the midst of intense chess games, throwing insults at each other, or a little cancer patient leaving the hospital with a shaved head and a smile.

'It never occurred to me I'm going to have to leave here sooner or later. I'll have hospital bills. I don't have insurance, that I know of. I don't have anywhere to live. I don't even have clothes except the ones I was admitted in. Dr. Taylor said I can probably get a deferral under my circumstances, but for how long? How am I supposed to get a job without a Social Security Card or an identity of any kind? Nurse Leigh said she would help me out. That she'll get me enrolled with Social Services and help me find a job and a temporary place to live. I don't like the idea of relying on her charity. But I don't have any other choice.

'No one is looking for me. The police haven't found any missing persons reports that match me. Not even in the nearby towns in Canada. So there's no one else but Dr. Taylor and Nurse Leigh.'

The following entries were all about Quinn's preparation to leave the hospital, about enrolling with Social Services, taking an aptitude test to see what kind of job she might be able to do, looking for low rent buildings, and gathering something of a wardrobe and personal belongings through Goodwill and Dr. Taylor and Nurse Leigh's good will. Dr. Taylor had a daughter's old clothes and brought them in periodically for Quinn to try, evidently, and Nurse Leigh helped her with household items she would need when she left the hospital.

This was where Quinn had gotten the accounting job, her aptitude scores showing a high capability in math - actually, high across the board, but particularly in that subject. Nurse Leigh and her husband and two boys had helped Quinn move things into the apartment Rachel sat in now, before her last checkup and official release from the hospital. Social Services took care of the rest - setting up a bank account and new identification for Quinn, and that was where she'd had to pick a new name.

Taylor Lee, after the doctor and nurse who had helped her so much.

Rachel shut the book. She couldn't read anymore. Her eyes stung from it, and not just from squinting in the dark to make out the words, and her stomach roiled violently in rebellion. She managed to slip the book back and to close the drawer again, at least, before the tears started flowing down her cheeks. They had all let Quinn down - again. _She_ had let Quinn down, again. Quinn had been lost and friendless and family-less, sitting in a hospital _alone_, lost and helpless, and what had they done? Just assumed she was off somewhere, that everything was okay and it wasn't.

Because Quinn was gone. Quinn was _gone_. It was Taylor lying just a mattress away from Rachel; Taylor who had kissed her and made her come and scream with ecstasy; Taylor who didn't know but _wanted_ Rachel. But it was Quinn who Rachel had betrayed by allowing this to happen, by not stopping it, by not telling her the truth the moment she realized Quinn wasn't there, by not being there for her _six years ago_.

Rachel had done her best to muffle her sobs into her arms, hugging her knees up to her chest and letting the tears moisten her forearms, but a gentle hand swept up her back anyway. Strong arms enclosed her shoulders and a soft, puzzled voice cooed to her even while thumbs reached to brush the tears off of Rachel's cheeks.

"Hey. What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Quinn's sweet, husky tones. Taylor's words. Rachel tried to stifle it, but the sobs only crashed even harder.

"I'm sorry, I'm _so sorry_."

Quinn was turning her body, guiding her closer into her arms, and though Rachel knew she didn't deserve it, she clung to the comfort of her smooth skin and her sweet smell and the tickling tendrils of her hair over her nose. Quinn just rocked her, soothed her, petted her hair and back so tenderly, reassuring her with little 'shh's and coos and 'it's all right's. And it was only made worse by the fact that it still wasn't Quinn. It was Taylor. Understanding and sweet despite the oddness of having a girl she'd just fucked into oblivion bawling in her bed.

And still it felt better to have Quinn's arms around her than not, because Taylor's mind or not, it was still Quinn's body. And Quinn's hugs had always been heaven to Rachel. Always felt safe and firm. Rachel fell asleep in them once she'd tired out her eyes and her body with tears, regretful and guilty and sad tears - and even joyful ones. Joy that she'd found Quinn, though she had no idea what she was going to do now that she had.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Rachel stirred early the next morning, when the bed bobbed and the warmth surrounding her lifted away, and an arm slipped out from beneath her neck. She only caught a glimpse of a white sheet disappearing into the hallway beyond as she blinked open bleary eyes, and Quinn was gone. It was still dark in the bedroom, but not the same heavy blackness as nighttime, rather the grey seeping light of morning trying to burst through the drapes.

She rubbed her eyes and propped herself up onto her elbow in an attempt to wake herself up - and get her bearings back. She was at Quinn's - Taylor's. After a night of sex and, judging from the cold now buzzing at her warm skin, cuddling. Because she'd been crying, after reading Taylor's journal. Quinn had held her all night. Rachel gnawed on her poor bottom lip and grimaced.

But just as suddenly as Quinn had left, she was back, smiling that brilliantly happy smile at Rachel, white sheet looped loosely around her long, lithe body. It was held up only by her flattened upper arms - both hands were occupied with a cell phone each.

"Good morning," Quinn husked, and if Rachel hadn't had a minor tingle between her legs at the sight of her shining the morning, she definitely did at the sound of that voice. "I'm sorry if I woke you. I had to work last weekend and I forgot to turn the alarm on my phone off," she explained, stepping around the bed to plop down on her knees on the other side of it.

Rachel turned herself over to face her, while Quinn tossed aside one cell phone and offered Rachel the other.

"I think yours has been going off, too." Quinn - Taylor - smiled.

Rachel scanned the notifications briefly. Unsurprisingly, she had a string of texts from Santana and Brittany, ranging from worried to nosy to angry about her disappearance last night and this morning. She would have to reassure them later. At the moment, the idea of dealing with the two of them on top of Quinn who was Taylor naked in a sheet in front of her after they had sex the night before was a bit too overwhelming for her tastes. The latter was quite enough at the moment.

"Thank you," she managed. She cleared her sore throat.

Quinn nodded, hands settled in her lap, pale hands barely standing out against the white sheet. "If you're still tired, we can...sleep in. Unless you have somewhere _you_ need to be."

Rachel shook her head mildly, tracing her fingers along the sides of her cell phone. "Not until later. I have a performance tonight…"

"A performance?" Quinn tossed her golden hair from her shoulders, an interested spark in those hazel eyes, and grabbed a pillow to her own chest as she went cross-legged. "Let me guess. You're a singer?"

Rachel glanced up - almost hopeful for just a moment, but the feeling fizzled out upon seeing the curious look in her bright eyes. "How'd you know?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "You have great range."

And then she grinned roguishly and Rachel's cheeks went aflame. She couldn't bear to look at those shining, happy eyes and that wide grin too long, reminding herself for the hundredth time that it wasn't Quinn flirting. Hell, it hadn't even been Quinn ravishing her. It was just Taylor. Taylor who seemed very interested in her.

"So do you perform in clubs, or…?"

Rachel shook her head. "No, I'm on Broadway, actually."

"Broadway, oh. That's impressive… You must be very good." Quinn smiled again.

She bit on her lip - and immediately pulled her teeth off the spot. "I am, actually."

Quinn's smile split into a grin, and Rachel looked back to her phone again. "I'll have to see for myself sometime. What's the play right now?"

"It's a new production… A twisted musical version of The Awakening. We've been guaranteed a six month run and we're into our fourth."

Rachel tried to lift her voice, to sound enthusiastic or happy. In fact, she was. She was overjoyed by the success of one of her biggest roles yet, acclaimed by critics for the complexity of her character and the largeness of her voice. But every moment on this bed, telling Quinn things she already knew, was overshadowed by the very fact that she wasn't Quinn at all. And that she should be telling Taylor just that.

"So it's going well?" Another smile.

Rachel nodded minutely. "Yes, very well."

Quinn nodded, rubbing the sheet between her thumbs, watching Rachel. "Are you okay?"

She hesitated. This was her opening. "I am...I'm sorry about last night, I must've made you feel so uncomfortable; it's just that - "

"Uncomfortable, no, you didn't make me feel anything but worried." She cut in so swiftly, so sweetly, tilting her head with concern that leapt from her eyes and both warmed Rachel to her heart and chilled her stomach. "I thought maybe I hurt you…"

It took a moment for Rachel to realize what Quinn's raised eyebrows meant - she was waiting for reassurance. "No. No, you didn't hurt me."

Her golden smile returned. "Good. So. As long as it was nothing I did…" Quinn's head ducked, peeking at her with those curious, bright eyes. Rachel felt a smile trying to pry at the corner of her mouth - but she only shook her head. "And you're okay now, then it's all right and you have nothing to apologize for."

Rachel nipped her lip and grimaced at herself again, but before she could try again, to tell Quinn she very much had something to apologize for - her phone buzzed in her hands. Santana's face appeared on her screen. Quinn gestured for her to go ahead, smiling, and Rachel swept her thumb across the screen.

"Good morning, Santana," she began, pressing a hand to her chest.

"Where the fuck _are_ you? Did you not see our, like, bajillion texts? We came back from the room and you were just _gone_! What the hell happened?"

Rachel hesitated. Under normal circumstances, Santana's worry would simply amuse her. She would assuage it with calm tones and a reasonable explanation. But last night was different. Last night she met Quinn all over again, and she still had no idea what she was going to do about the whole situation. And she couldn't exactly tell Santana over the phone, with Quinn sitting right there, looking at her.

She cleared her throat. "I...met someone."

Santana's tone changed completely. "Oh, _really_? You, Prude of the Year, _met_ someone? Did you fuck 'em?"

"Santana, I hardly think that's an appropriate topic of conversation."

"Meaning yes. Score for Berry! I'm proud of you. Is she hot? Or is it a he? Forget that, whose place are you at, where are they, and why aren't you still bumping uglies?"

Rachel sighed, glancing sideways at Quinn, whose lips were twisted with that special brand of amusement that only colored Rachel's cheeks even redder.

"She is sitting right next to me, and now that you know I'm all right, I'm hanging up the phone."

"Good for you, go fuck her brains out."

Rachel shook her head and ended the call, setting her cell phone aside. "I'm sorry for that. My friends are...incredibly nosy."

It felt strange, informing _Quinn_ that _Santana_ was nosy.

Quinn only smiled. "You don't have to apologize for everything, you know."

Rachel took a breath, she realized, to apologize, but managed to bite down on the impulse - fortunately, not literally. Her lip was already burning with enough fury without her accidentally nipping it _again_. Instead she shifted, growing stiff in her position, and quickly realized she was stiff for more than one reason. Her skin was dried taut from sweat, and between her legs was the delicious ache she hadn't felt in so long, and maybe because of that, it felt stronger than ever. Or maybe because of the blonde sitting across from her. Smiling sweetly, expectantly.

She sucked in a new breath. "In that case, do you mind if I take a shower?"

Quinn chuckled. "Of course. I'll get some things around for you to freshen up."

"You don't have to do that," she protested, scooting up to try to catch a pale wrist, but Quinn only caught her hand right back - and kissed it.

"I want to."

She smiled, that easy, brilliantly happy smile. Rachel's cheeks flushed, and Quinn swept away, tossing her pillow down in favor of prancing about in that sheet. Fortunately, the trip was short - she went straight into the bathroom. Rachel sat up slowly and held the blanket that had been covering her thus far to her chest, easing her legs out from beneath it - she still had her stockings on - and pulling herself up to tuck the blanket around herself and peer into the near closet-sized bathroom.

Quinn was humming to herself - Rachel couldn't quite identify the tune yet. She was a bit distracted by the neat way Taylor did everything - like Quinn. Carefully setting a pink washcloth at the center of a pink towel, on the edge of the counter; selecting a toothbrush, flosser, and toothpaste from a drawer with the tips of her fingers and lining them up by the sink; retrieving a comb, perfume, and a brand new deodorant from a cabinet and placing them behind the towel.

When she finished, Quinn straightened and smiled across at Rachel. "I think that's everything. If there's anything else, let me know, I'll get it for you. You can use whatever shampoo, conditioner - whatever you want. The handle for hot sticks a bit; otherwise it works like any other shower. Okay?"

Rachel could only nod. "Okay."

Quinn smiled and slipped past her, out into the bedroom beyond again, and Rachel was left to her own devices, scanning the little bathroom curiously. Like the bedroom, there wasn't much to it. Even the glimpse of the cabinet the comb and perfume and deodorant had come from looked fairly empty, except for backup supplies and perhaps a couple of pill bottles, and the sink was undecorated by anything but what she could only assume was Taylor's personal toothbrush, flosser, and toothpaste. She had to wonder how many overnight guests Taylor had, to carry guest toothbrushes - but shivered the thought away.

Rather than continue her nosy quest, Rachel slipped off the blanket and set it over the toilet for the time being before she drew off her stockings and turned on the water, giving the handle for heat a jerk. Once it came out of the pipe warm and refreshing, she stepped inside and shut the glass door partway, closing her eyes as a rush of water cascaded over her stiff and sticky body, already pounding away the dried sweat and the cold that had set in since she'd set aside the blanket. After her thick hair was sopping wet, she examined Quinn's shampoo and conditioner.

Quinn had always smelled to Rachel like, well, Quinn - like fresh, warm laundry and sunshine and gardenias. Especially her hair. Whenever they'd hugged, Rachel was overwhelmed with breaths of it, of white flowers and secret love. Now that she thought back on the previous night, though, that gardenia smell was gone. Replaced by something generic...just soap. Like the shampoo she was looking at now. No particular scent, really, just shampoo to keep hair thick, shiny, and clean. At least she still smelled like fresh laundry and sunshine.

Rachel had gotten through shampooing and conditioning her hair before hands fell to her hips and she nearly leapt out of her own skin, lost in thoughts of Quinn and Taylor and the way her tongue felt against her sex - but Quinn was soothing her with a kiss to her neck and a breathy chuckle.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," she murmured, lips whispering across Rachel's skin and tingles trailed up her middle all over again. "Do you mind a little company?"

Rachel could do nothing but shake her head, because Quinn's palms had flattened to her hips and they were rubbing soapy suds over the length of her stomach - from the undersides of her breasts to the tops of her thighs. And her soft lips kissed a trail up the side of her neck, slow and lingering. Rachel could feel the pressure of her body against her back, the hardness of her pink nipples, and she groaned - out of frustration and arousal at once.

She couldn't - shouldn't - let it happen again. But Quinn's hands felt so good, soaping up her breasts, rounding them and squeezing as if to test their firmness. And her lips felt so good teasing Rachel's earlobe, closing it between them and suckling, leaving little kitten licks on the shell or in the hollow behind her ear, making her quiver and gush down her thighs. And it felt so good to be wanted by Quinn.

Still, she managed to get her jaw working, perhaps not to say the correct words, but any word was good at the moment. "A-again?"

Quinn's hot breath hit her neck again, a chuckle breezing out between those perfect lips while she let Rachel's nipples squeeze through the grasp of her fingers, slipping easily with the lubricant of soap and water. "We don't have to...if you don't want to. There's just something about you, I can't explain it. I want to be inside you."

She purred this last part, directly into Rachel's ear, and if she could've resisted before, she couldn't now. Rachel arched her neck back for a wet kiss, and one of Quinn's hands slipped down her stomach to cup her mound. Before she knew it, Rachel was completely tangled up in Quinn again, being played with and teased in every imaginable way, and it was all augmented by the shower pouring over them.

Drips dropped along Rachel's skin from Quinn's nose between locks of their lips and Quinn sucking on her neck. Her fingers freely rubbed and pinched at Rachel's pert nipples, and the suds and water eased the ache in her breasts from being manipulated so recently. And Quinn pushed inside her without resistance, with her own natural lubricant and the wetness of her fingers working together, popping in and out of her teasingly, until Rachel whined and dug her nails into the back of Quinn's neck.

It was difficult to grind her hips or to help in the motion in this position, but Rachel rolled her ass into Quinn's firm hips and angled her body closer, so Quinn was practically cupping her, and her fingers curled inside, deeper - and it was perfect. Quinn went slower than the previous night, rocking deep and shallow, deep and shallow, while the heel of her hand put pressure on Rachel's clit, and every movement seemed to send sparks over Rachel's entire body, leaving her feeling fuzzy and tingling - on edge.

Rachel dropped her head back against Quinn's shoulder, her eyes rolling back. She swallowed some shower water as she moaned and turned her head into Quinn's neck, kissing weakly until Quinn's mouth met hers again. Their tongues dueled, but it only took Quinn's lips latching onto her own and sucking for Rachel to come again, shuddering and groaning in Quinn's arms.

When Rachel's knees stopped wobbling and she managed to stand on her own two feet again, Quinn stroked down her sides to her hips again and left a soft kiss on her cheek, lingering there as she spoke up again.

"I'm going to make breakfast; any dietary restrictions I should know about?"

Rachel closed her eyes. Her stomach convulsed all over again. Taylor, Taylor, Taylor.

"I'm, I'm a vegan," she choked.

"Vegan, hm? I can work with that."

Taylor kissed her cheek again and squeezed her hips, and then she was gone. Rachel grabbed the washcloth, the soap, and started scrubbing at her own skin with a vengeance. She had to put a stop to this.

#

Rachel took a few minutes to herself after she'd finished, letting the water run down her skin until it was going cold and she was composed again. Upon drying herself off, combing her hair, brushing and flossing her teeth, applying perfume and deodorant, she discovered the blanket and her stockings were gone, replaced by a shirt, folded up and set on top of the toilet lid. She lifted it up and flapped it out - it was long, but narrow. A simple white shirt, and Rachel flushed at the implication that this was the only clothing Quinn - Taylor - wanted to supply her with at the moment.

It came down to cover her ass, but that was about it. Any tugs to pull it further down only strained the fabric, and Rachel instead tugged the top hem up to her nose, breathing in that fresh laundry smell for a moment or two. She had to shake herself of it and yanked down the top one more time before she exited the bathroom. The mattress on the floor was still a pile of blankets, but the cell phones were gone, as was the silver laptop that had been on the dresser last night.

Rachel cautiously made her way from the room, down the hall, following the tantalizing smell of pancakes until she found Quinn in the kitchen, glancing from the pancakes frying on the griddle to the screen of her laptop. She had a recipe pulled up. And she was humming again. And Rachel felt terribly underdressed in comparison to Quinn's grey tee and boy shorts. She fiddled with the bottom of her own shirt and hesitated only a moment more before she cleared her throat.

Quinn - Taylor - smiled at her, another brilliant, happy smile, and swept right over to reward Rachel's presence with a kiss. And a scoop. Rachel squealed as Quinn popped her up onto the counter this time, dropping away from their kiss with a flash of her pearly whites, and her joyous smile was too much for Rachel to resist. She smiled back, cupping those drawn cheeks and smoothing her thumbs along Quinn's strong cheekbones, taking in sparkling hazel eyes with an ache in her chest.

"What time do you have to leave?" Quinn was asking, rubbing Rachel's sides, kissing her jaw.

Rachel gnawed on her lip, trying not to beam. She grimaced at herself. "Four at the latest."

Quinn peered up at her again. "And you don't have anything else going on today?"

She hesitated, then shook her head. "No."

Another smile blossomed on Quinn's face. "Then, if you don't mind, I'd...like it if you stayed. I know it's not exactly conventional, sleeping together and _then_ getting to know each other, but I really...I like you. There's...there's just something about you." Quinn's soft fingers stroked down Rachel's cheeks, bringing another involuntary smile to her lips, which hazel eyes narrowed on. "But I would understand if this was just a one night thing for you."

Rachel breathed in softly, because she could hardly breathe at all. There was a vulnerability in those eyes she hadn't seen in years, had hardly ever seen in her life. The last time she could even recall was when Quinn had given her a set of train tickets to come see her at Yale. So that they could keep in touch. They'd failed miserably at it. And because of that, Rachel hadn't thought twice when Quinn disappeared, into Taylor, into this new life.

It wouldn't be fair to Quinn to continue this, this thing with Taylor. Hell, it wasn't fair to Taylor. She was sweet and kind, obviously, but Rachel couldn't separate her from Quinn, no matter how she'd been trying, and it would always be Quinn she was looking for, wanting from Taylor. And as far as she knew, Quinn was gone, was never coming back. Certainly, Taylor spoke like her, walked like her, had her mannerisms - maybe even kissed like her, Rachel didn't know - but those were just the natural patterns her body had become accustomed to. There was no real memory there.

Quinn jerked away abruptly, calling Rachel back to herself, as she went to flip a burning pancake - and hummed. Same tune as before, in the bathroom, and before Rachel had interrupted her just now. And now, without distraction, she recognized.

I Feel Pretty.

Rachel sucked in a breath.

"I'll stay."


End file.
